


The Elder Scrolls VI: Aetherius

by Malthius



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Elder Scrolls Lore, Gen, Multi, Supernatural Elements, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 20:19:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6768541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malthius/pseuds/Malthius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One could never be truly born a Vampire; only halfling abominations and stillborns result. Then again... When there's a will, there's a way. A storm bigger than any that has preceded it brews outside of mortal comprehension, and the Thalmor have left most of Mundus scarred. Follow Azrael, the Vampire Prince, on his journey to not only find purpose and truth in a shattered world - but himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Elder Scrolls VI: Aetherius

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, I'd like to thank the Archive of Our Own Administration for giving me the chance to join this rather interesting community. I have arrived here with an Elder Scrolls fanfiction with a plot that has been festering within my creativity for quite some time. Now that I feel I have the ability to at least attempt to put my ideas onto paper, I bring you The Elder Scrolls VI: Aetherius!
> 
> Since I have the aim of being 100% lore-friendly, feel free to point out any inconsistencies! Enjoy!  
> 

4E 420

21 First Seed

The Skies of Solstheim

Above a congregation of fluffy white clouds floated a gargantuan mass of land, of which atop a rocky mountain stood Volkiharus: a settlement watched over by the grand Volkihar Palace. This was not just any palace, for this one was home to the Volkihari - or 'Pure-Blooded Vampires'.

Despite the colossal size of the miles of earthen and artificial constructs alike, the floating isle known as Umbriel was a place of exceptional magical proficiency. Runes were installed that hid the presence of every occupant and structure of Umbriel whenever the day broke. The runes could also absorb magicka, and fortified whatever they graced exponentially - organic or inorganic. At night, the structure would remain above a conglomeration of Magicka-crafted clouds that were often dismissed as ash.

Umbriel also had its own miniature atmosphere-like force field, which was thought to be because of the Vampire King's magic. This however was not the case, for, unbeknownst to its inhabitants, the massive island had a will of its own. The floating isle would normally be uninhabitable because of the fierce climate that called Morrowind home - however, thanks to the harvested heat of the Vampire King's strategically placed runes within the foundations of the isle, Umbriel now had a warm and very... unique ecosystem. Umbriel used to be much smaller before it was conquered. Now, thanks to the Vampire King, it had rich land from Black Marsh, Skyrim, and Valenwood added to its mass.

The security this provided was the stuff of dreams for most of those that found their lifestyles to be rooted within the underworld, for any arrivals to their domain would be detected immediately. Of course, this seemed to be unnecessary, for there had never been any intruders since the Vampire King conquered and tamed the isle. However, this king in particular was a very protective ruler, who was also (without shame, mind you) an avid lover of the nature of Nirn. For over a hundred and fifty years, the Vampire King cultivated his own forest-like environment on the mysterious Umbriel and let the natural order of things play its part. However, that didn't stop the Vampire King from populating this Dunmer-made wilderness with his own design.

A plethora of wicked creatures of both artificial and natural origin lived within the tall trees that now ingrained their roots into Umbriel. This dense forest had been home to many, many vicious monsters and was known as Sivaas Forest. The lesser daedra, gargoyles, feral werewolves, poisonous insects, and the wraiths were entrusted with the purpose of disposing of any intruder before they reached , which was home to the most powerful Vampires in all of Tamriel - and dare the Vampire King say, all of Nirn. .

You could say that the Isle was a fortification of both great power and secrecy, for what else could protect a landmass that harbored the scorned? This did not only include the Vampiric species as a whole, but also high ranking members of the Dark Brotherhood. The discovery of such a place would ignite the fires of war indefinitely until Umbriel was no more. However, some speculate that even within the case of discovery, that the Vampire King would still be able to defend the isle and protect its inhabitants.

"And that is it for today's review, class," a male and highly pompous, stereotypically Bosmer voice announced. "Do remember that your written assignments on the architecture of Umbriel are due tomorrow! Twenty percent of your final grades! Twenty!"

Approximately a dozen students of varying ages rose from their assigned seats to rush back to their living quarters, most likely located in the Tower of Respite, the second tallest structure around. Volkiharus was the name of this settlement of Vampires, assassins, and merchants (that were without much morality) that now called Umbriel home. The Tower of Respite was where the vampiric 'youth' of Tamriel rested their heads within the finest of coffins, complemented with luxurious living arrangements. From the aesthetically pleasing dimly lit chandeliers, to the gold-trimmed crimson rugs, to the artisan-level craftsmanship displayed in the wooden dining tables and chairs, the Tower of Respite bested most inns found on the ground.

A young Dunmer was lost in his thoughts and completely missed the notion that today's Geography class was over. An indigo, curled fist rested upon the right side of his face as the elven youth was visibly lost in his gaze toward a mosaic window that featured a red moon and a roaring Dovah. A small, golden hoop-earring glistened in the light the stained glass welcomed in on his left ear, which caught the attention of the instructor. He was garbed in midnight black robes that were equipped with a large, baggy hood. It looked quite comfortable, but it was however a uniform required of all students that were affiliated with the Academy. Within the fine, dark cloth were enchantments that accelerated brain function and learning growth capacity. It also gave the Instructors a very quick way to induce a shocking reprimand for disruptive behavior.

"Excuse me, child. Azrael, was it? Today's session has ended. Were you not paying rapt attention? Hmm?"

The boy jumped a little, and looked up to see Instructor Silgorn Tadriel. Short, even for a Bosmer, Silgorn was garbed in the midnight-black instructor's robes of Volkiharus and sported dorky, thick circular-rimmed black glasses. The Dunmer boy also took note of the large crimson tome that his teacher carried, which was almost the size of said instructor's torso. If he were a normal Bosmer, he surely would have struggled in order to carry it.

"I - I was. I was sir. I just got lost in thought, that's all. My apologies, I'll be on my way," the now-named Azrael attempted to reconcile.

The scholarly vampiric instructor grunted. "I do hope that your Zoology studies are up to date, as well. Though this is just the beginning of your final year, I suggest that you take your assignments and lessons much more seriously. Good day".

After the dorky Bosmer took a few steps on his stride out of the classroom, Azrael scowled as he gathered his belongings and began his journey back home. He didn't care for the geography and 'known' history of Umbriel, but he thought it would be an easy A - considering he'd been there all of his life.

The both teenage and vampiric Dunmer groaned internally as he remembered how sore he'd get and the number of scars he'd accumulate whenever his father would have the time to train him.

Although the boy was feeling a bit lazy that day, he knew he'd better take his father's swordplay lessons seriously - or he'd get seriously injured. Over two-hundred years of experience was nothing to laugh at, afterall.

Speaking of such a lengthy amount of time, Azrael always found it a bit odd that he was only fifteen, yet was the offspring of two beings that were over a couple hundred years old. Vampirism just worked that way, he supposed, but he never really felt like he was apart of anything special. Although, he was aware that that could be just because of his sheltered life. He had never been to The Ground, but always knew he'd get his chance to explore the world of Nirn. Apparently it was extremely dangerous for Vampires down there, so Azrael made sure he could defend himself properly.

However, an aggravating quirk of his irked Azrael - he could not perform Illusion, Conjuration, Lightning or Fire Destruction spells. Although he was very gifted in the school of Frost, he felt as if it wasn't flashy enough for his tastes. Afterall, other Vampires (especially of the Nord variety) were pretty resistant to Frost magic, so it did him little good there. The only things Azrael thought were great perks of this particular Destruction school were the frozen scimitars he could create on a whim. Though inferior to most enchanted weapons, they were resilient and sharp enough to combat other non-enchanted weapons made out of materials such as steel. It saved Azrael the burden of carrying two weapons, as well. Though he would rather be able to utilize all three Destruction schools, Azrael knew never to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Before he knew it, the young Dark Elf was out of Volkiharus and on the Royal Path toward Volkihar Mountain: a colossal mountain that was raised by the Vampire King himself in order to begin construction of a strategically placed Palace/Headquarters. Volkiharus was a circular city that surrounded the mountain, and a lot of the old architecture from Umbriel's history still remained intact despite Malthael's geographical remodeling. Any chance that there'd be even less room than there already was for defeat in the case of an invasion, Malthael did what he felt he had to.

So, of course, Azrael had to be sure no one had been following him. His father absolutely refused to have Azrael's identity as the Vampire Prince be common knowledge until he 'deemed him worthy'.

Although it frustrated the young yet undead Dunmer, he knew that his father's logic was sound. 'Special treatment is absolutely out of the question for the sake of a proper education' he would always recite. Denying wisdom from the experience of living for a couple centuries would be incredibly stupid; and Azrael learned that the hard way when he begun combat training at the ripe age of five.

Azrael was indeed under an immense amount of pressure. Sure, he could use scimitars well and was pretty proficient at Frost and Alteration magic; but being the heir to any throne - let alone the Vampiric one - was no joke.

An immensely powerful gust of wind made its way passed Azrael as two gigantic wings helped Durnehviir descend onto a small clearing between a miniscule section of Sivaas Forest that settled in betwixt the mountain and the Academic Forum of Volkiharus.

"Kulaan Azrael, greetings," the undead Dovah began as he lowered his head down to Azrael's height. "How were your lessons this afternoon?"

"Boring," Azrael droned as he hopped onto the undead Dovah's neck casually, but being careful to not drop his books. "Have a lot of homework to do, and I still have to practice with Father. I know this is just the beginning of my final year of lessons, but it's already getting on my nerves."

Durnehviir began to slowly flap his wings. "I would take your Father's teachings very seriously, young one. He is very powerful, and Nirn is not a welcoming place to the Vampiric species. You will need to know how to protect yourself."

Azrael contemplated a response until Durnehviir landed in front of the front entrance to Volkihar Palace in all of its restored, cathedral-like gothic beauty. "I know it's important, Durnehviir. Doesn't mean I can't complain every once and awhile whenever Father's not around."

"And what makes you think I am 'not around', my son?"

Azrael gasped as he turned around, only to see the Vampire King standing amused before him. The king was garbed in what he referred to as his 'good 'ole Archmage robes', though black and red were now the primary colors after hired help made recoloring customizations. An onyx circlet with a large, bright red ruby at the center was also adorned around the royal Dunmer's head, complimented by gold rings that made their homes around each of the Vampire King's clawed fingers. Long, silky black hair reached the base of the Vampire King's neck that reached out behind him in the face of a gust. The clink-clanking of the King's daedric boots could be heard as he approached Azrael and Durnehviir to greet them in a stride only a refined king could have. "Hello, Durnehviir. Thank you for escorting the Prince back home once again."

"It is no problem at all, Qahnaarin. I am honored to be charged with the Prince's safety," Durnehviir responded with utmost respect. "I may take to the skies of Tamriel now, yes?"

The Vampire King grinned. "Of course, Durnehviir. By all means."

"I thank you, Qahnaarin. Farewell."

The Vampire King's attention turned to a stiff Azrael as Durnehviir took off to the skies. "So," the King began, crossing his arms. "Azrael, how did your lessons go today?"

"Fine, Father." Azrael droned, but made sure to throw in at least a little respect and dignity into his response. "Learning about the geography of the Isle and Nirn is boring, but I understand its importance. I have a lot of studies to get to, actually, and I was wondering if-"

"If you could skip out on your other lessons today?" the King continued to grin as he extended his right arm out completely. In front of his palm appeared a black sphere that, with the quiet utterance of 'Umbra', said sphere morphed into a massive, black katana that was easily the length of a Giant. "I do not think so, my son. Come, call forth your blades. You must learn how to keep your guard up anywhere, for Vampire hunters are not as kind as me. You have ten seconds."

"Shit," Azrael thought while he grimaced at the sight of his father levitating. The young Dunmer assumed a horse stance after quickly placing his stack of textbooks on the ground behind him. He thrusted both of his arms outward, and began focusing Frost magic into his signature icy scimitars. "He's being serious again. This is such a pain!"

"...Nine. Ten."

The young vampiric Dark Elf quickly flexed his arms as he crossed his icy scimitars in an 'X' formation, which he wished was enough to protect him from his father's wrath. It was futile however, for in a swift blur, the Vampire King in all of his glory swung a masterfully executed horizontal strike at just the right length away from his son so as to simply break his weapons and send him flying without a single cut; just with force.

Azrael grunted as his ragdolled body finally came to a halt, just before the doors to the Palace after he knocked his stack of books over in the process. The Vampire Prince got up and became enraged at the sight of his organized papers flying everywhere. and formed his icy scimitars again with angry facial features and a bit of blood dribbling from his mouth. This time, Azrael noticed his blades forming much quicker than usual. He noticed his anger, and remembered his father's words of advice: "There are many types of strengths. The most important strength, my son, is strength over your emotions".

Yet, said anger felt very good, and Azrael became drunk with it. Unbeknownst to the young Vampire, his eyes began to glow an eerie orange and his fangs became longer, to which the Vampire King rose an eyebrow.

"Fus... Ro!"

Surprised, the Vampire King took a step back and braced himself for the shout that had quite a bit of power behind it, but not nearly enough to break his guard. The sound of Azrael's Thu'Um was deep and guttural. It reminded the King of an actual Dovah, which caused him to furrow his eyebrows. "Who taught you the second word of Unrelenting Force, Azrael?"

Azrael chose to ignore his father's question as he disappeared in a blur in the same manner his father did. He then reappeared in another directly in front of the Vampire King's face, his body curled into a cannonball maneuver and his icy scimitars poised to decapitate from both sides. The impressive attack was for naught though, for Azrael's father casually leaned backwards to avoid the swords and then spun into a spin-back kick that sent the Dark Elf boy flying once more.

Before he could crash into the Palace, the King exploded into a burst of speed and gripped the young Dunmer by the throat, his other hand glowing a bright green and directly in front of the infuriated child's face. Azrael was obviously incoherent, as could be seen with anyone who wanted to attempt to chomp your hand off.

"Calm. Down," the Vampire King commanded, full authority present in his tone of voice. In a few seconds, Azrael's eyes rolled back into the back of his head right before his eyelids closed, completely unconscious. The King sighed as he relaxed his son's body bridal style..

"Although I am no better teacher, I feel as though pushing little Azrael so hard is detrimental to his growth."

The Vampire King turned to see his wife, Jenassa, in all of her beauty as she made sure her masterfully regal gait got his attention. The Vampire Queen had long, flowing black hair that complemented a youthful and bright-looking Dunmer complexion. Her eyes were a deep ruby red, and warpaint to match was angled upward like the steep climb of a mountain, that came down like runoff passed the cheekbones on each side of her face. Jenassa also wore with pride the robes of the Black Hand, which she only wore when she was either A; working on completing a contract or is present in her Sanctuary in Solstheim, or B; her intention was to call a meeting of the Black Hands.

"You've already assembled them, haven't you?" Malthael pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "No matter. What does however is the fact that Azrael must be strong as the future commander of our forces, and acquire more discipline if he is to study at the College of Winterhold once he finishes his studies here, Jenassa. If he is discovered to be a Vampire, he will surely-"

"I know, my love," Jenassa interrupted with a soothing tone while she seductively cradled the side of the Vampire King's face. "However, my dear Malthael, you have other matters to attend to this evening now. Leave little Azrael in the care of Collette, and come to the Chamber. She is capable and knows, so there's nothing to worry about. You also know this matter cannot go ignored".

Normally, the now-named Malthael would eradicate any who would dare interrupt him. However, Jenassa had gained that sort of perk that involved getting away with that when the two became husband and wife.

"Of course, darling," Malthael responded with a bit of childish frustration whilst he conjured a massive Gargoyle that appeared out of a dark portal, the royal seal of the Dovahkiin engraved in black unto its dark granite forehead. It had a large, bladed stone tail that acted as a flimsy battleaxe, and wings the size of an adolescent Dovah. "I will, once the sun sets."

The Gargoyle King took the unconscious Azrael off of the King's hands, and began its descent down to the hospital in Volkiharus as the King of Vampires watch the sun descend underneath the horizon.

Deep within the heart of Volkihar Mountain was a dimly lit, circular meeting chamber. The walls, floor, ceiling, chairs, and the colossal circular meeting table were all made of onyx. In the center of the table was a large kiln that blazed magical black flames that gave a sort of blacklight-esque effect to the walls around the inhabitants of the Sacred Congregation Chamber, accompanied by a set up of golden goblets with liquid crimson that stood in front of each chair on the table..

Deeper in the room stood upward the coffin of the holy Night Mother herself, behind a luxurious gilded altar to Sithis - the Dread Father. Above the Night Mother was a balcony that was home to a shrine to Sithis, the Dread Father himself being depicted as a hooded figure with wrapped bandages around a humanoid face, held in an artistic center of giant skeletal hands that beheld the figure as if preparing for the descent of a firefly into one's hands. In the center of the figure was a hollow hole that showed transparency in the place one's heart would be, small but comparable to the holes in the wall behind the shrine that acted as tunnels for the ravens to fly through. Skulls and onyxian sculptures of souls in agony beheld the shrine in a dark, sadistic brilliance. A naked, fidgeting skeleton surrounded by dozens of the large cawing ravens wrote with papyrus and quill the plentiful amount of prayers customers of the Dark Brotherhood put their faith into through the Night Mother.

The ravens, familiars of the Listener, carry these prayers all throughout Tamriel to the various sanctuaries that dot the land, beginning their long journeys flying through the two miniature tunnels that acted as quick routes for the avians to fly directly out of Volkihar Mountain. This way, contracts were carried out swiftly and efficiently. The Thalmor Empire had been extremely serious in hunting members of the Dark Brotherhood down since they've decided to cooperate with the Dawnguard, but were not efficient enough to do any significant damages to the ranks. Lowly murderers were caught, arrested, and promptly executed by the Thalmor Empire of course - but such is the risk of the business, one would say. Only members that were skilled enough to not get captured were given ranks that involved being trusted with classified information.

In symbolic symmetry with the Night Mother's coffin and the Shrine of Sithis was a red and gold throne with open Dovah maws detailed into the edges of the armrests. This was the designated seat for the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood - also known as the Vampire King.

To Malthael's throne's left was the smaller version of his throne for his beloved, Jenassa. Further down both sides of the table were two separate sets of four onyxian seats with rich-quality crimson seat comforters that laid underneath the nine other Speakers of the Dark Brotherhood, all garbed in the traditional robes of the cult.

To Jenassa's side of the table was Alexandria, a twenty-five year old Imperial that lacked a surname who was known for her resolve, being able to stand her ground around some of the most powerful Vampires to ever exist. She was also the only non-Vampire that was apart of the Black Hands, for she had been succeeded into her rank because of the previous Speaker she served getting killed by none other than Malthael in an act of self-defense. Though she had been pressured into 'Perfect Vampirism' by Malthael, her refusal was taken with less offense in the Vampire King's perspective. This was only because she was an extremely useful asset to the Dark Brotherhood, so as a reward, Malthael decided to respect her wishes of mortality. She made a sound argument as well, wanting to one day soon 'be at one with the Dread Father'. Alexandria had short, chestnut hair and medium-sized breasts that made themselves fairly known through her robes. Alexandria also resided in Volkiharus and taught Reconnaissance and Subterfuge classes at the Academy of the Esteemed Dark Arts.

Next to Alexandria was one Ulfric Stormcloak - once the infamous leader of an army of Nord rebels in Skyrim two hundred years ago who was 'killed' by Malthael. Back then, Malthael was known as the hero of Skyrim and Slayer of the World-Eater, Alduin. However, instead of arriving to his beloved Sovngarde, Malthael decided to recognize the sheer potency of power that resided in Ulfric's soul and decided to give him the Unholy Gift, which made Ulfric a pure-blooded Vampire. He looked exactly the same all those years ago, with the additions of the robes of the Black Hands, paler skin, and dull, red eyes. It took years for a purposeless and wandering Ulfric to submit his allegiance to the king without Malthael using his abilities to bend his will.

One may ask 'why not just force submission when you were capable'? The Vampire King preferred that those supposedly loyal to him do so without his influence via Illusion magic or Thu'Um. Nevertheless, eventually Ulfric reconciled with his circumstances and decided to cut his losses since the Stormcloaks were no more. He bent down on one knee and bowed his head all those years ago, eventually coming to respect the strength and resolve of the Vampiric Dovahborn; and thus, Ulfric became a powerful asset to Malthael - both with his skill in combat and the Thu'Um. The legendary and ancient axe of Ysgramor, Wuuthrad, rested at his side. Ulfric's skill at leading troops was also invaluable, which was shown in the near-perfect success rate of his Sanctuary in Dawnstar, Skyrim.

Adjacent to Ulfric was a small, pale, old-looking Breton woman by the name of Madeleine Artois. She had the face of your generic, smiling, happy-go-lucky grandmother, which was supported by her grayed hair that was tied up with a black hairtie into a bun. Her eyes were closed by her smile and crows feet, and her hands were comfortably folded into her lap in a fashion only a noblewoman could have done. Despite her decrepit appearance, she was only a little over a hundred years old, for she requested her daughter whom she knew to have been turned, to turn her in order to save her from her mortality. This was also the reason she declined Malthael's offer of Perfect Vampirism, because she did not know what effect the Unholy Gift would have on her aged body. Although she lacked the Vampire Lord transformation, she was still an accomplished witch that was a force to be reckoned with.

To Madeleine's left sat a redguard named Nazir, who was also known to have been apart of the Dark Brotherhood longer than both Malthael and Jenassa, who both took their initiation together. It was Nazir who gave Malthael and Jenassa their first sets of contracts, and in return, Malthael gave him the Unholy Gift years later. Over the last couple of centuries, Nazir mastered the combat arts of his people and had ran his very own Sanctuary deep within the Alik'r Desert quite successfully, and decided to ditch the traditional Redguard desert headgear and fashioned his hair into long dreadlocks that were tied back. A massive, silver scimitar with an entirely sapphire hilt lay on the table directly in front of him.

Leaning on the chair behind Nazir with her arms crossed was a tiny little Breton girl by the name of Babette, who was Nazir's 'Silencer'- a personal bodyguard-like assassin at every Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood's disposal. Although she appeared fragile and incredibly young in appearance, Babette was actually much older than even Ulfric, refusing to let anyone know her true age. Ironically, Babette was also the most veteran living member of the Dark Brotherhood, predating even the Vampire King himself. Though, she had been a lot weaker than the king even before his blessing that gave him the title of Listener because she was what was known as an 'Imperfect Vampire'.

This was soon rectified after the very violent and bloody usurpation of Lord Harkon and his followers/kin, which was followed by Babette rejoicing with the power of being a Perfect Vampire after Malthael dissected the research Valerica left behind; after he killed her and her daughter Serana within the mysterious realm known as the Soul Cairn. As is the case with Alexandria, Babette also resided in Volkiharus and taught a class at the Academy, only she was a professor for Alchemy lessons while also running a little shop that sold alchemical ingredients in the Marketplace Forum of Volkiharus. The little, yet ancient Vampire was impatiently tapping her fingers on the table, waiting for the meeting to start. She looked quite comical in her miniature version of the Black Hands' robes, an opinion that was commonly shared throughout the Black Hands. Though Silencers are normally not allowed in the meetings that summoned all Speakers by the Listener, Babette held a special place in Malthael's opinions and allowed her to remain for old time's sake.

Now, on to the king's immediate right was an Argonian that went by the name of Vel'Koz. Vel'Koz was a Shadowscale that had scales primarily black and secondarily a dark, forest green underneath his chin. A large tail whipped to and fro generally pointing upward behind him through the customly-tailored tail hole trimmed out of his robes for comfort. This Shadowscale in particular, however, secretly ruled the entirety of Black Marsh in the shadows with both coin and fear. All things involving Black Marsh ended up in front of him, let alone the affairs of Dark Brotherhood throughout the entire province.

Even in the Dark Brotherhood, Vel'Koz was quite the intimidating figure, for Malthael recognized him as one of the most powerful mages he'd ever come across. However, this was not because of a variety of arcane mastery or his ram-like horns, no. Vel'Koz had invented his own way to weaponize the energies of Aetherius using secret techniques of the Hist Trees that called Black Marsh home. Unlike Cedric Bourdeau, Alexandria's previous Speaker, Vel'Koz was the one of three from within the Dark Brotherhood known to have challenged Malthael in combat and lived to tell the tale. The feared Argonian's features were fixed into a snarl, which let the other members know to not even bother to speak to him. Yes, killing a fellow member of the Dark Brotherhood was against the Five Tenets - but Vel'Koz always made it clear that it never said anything about prohibiting torture.

Next to Vel'Koz's right was probably the only Speaker to be able to withstand the killing-intent aura that emanated from him in spades, a female Khajiit only known as Gray. No one, not even the Vampire King himself knew of her identity, for even Gray herself had forgotten. This was because of the Daedric Artifact in her possession: The Gray Cowl of Nocturnal, which made her invisible to mortal eyes; her name erased from history itself. It is amusing to note that this meant that Alexandria could not interact with Gray at all, only trust the other Vampiric members with their claims of the invisible entity they were speaking to actually existing. Gray rarely spoke, but when she did, her voice was the raspy kind you'd hear from aging female Khajiit.

What made her an invaluable asset to the Dark Brotherhood was not just her emotionless demeanor or her abilities, but rather her position as leader of the Cyrodillic Thieves Guild, which was intertwined utilizing utmost efficiency with her Sanctuary located in Kvatch. It was quite incredible, for the first floor underneath the Cathedral of Akatosh contained a large underground complex which served as the headquarters of the only remaining Thieves Guild. However, beneath that particular HQ laid the Sanctuary that Gray governed. Though, to be fair, the Thieves Guild was mainly ran by her Silencer, a young Bosmer woman named Uma, who also openly communicated with and commanded the Brotherhood members underneath her Speaker's charge whenever she was absent. Though, when it came to impossible heists that would fund both the Thieves Guild and Umbriel royally, Gray pulled much more than her own weight. Beautifully so, Gray's fur was the exact same shade of gray that colored the cowl that gave her a new identity… or, a lack of one.

To the right of Gray was a young-looking, incredibly hulkish half Orsimer, half Altmer. He had the brilliant gold complexion and the long pointed ears of the High Elves, but the facial features of an Orc. Máku, known throughout Tamriel as a serial killer dubbed 'The Decimator' due to his incredibly destructive habit of employing what he called 'The Art of Overkill'. Much like how Wuuthrad rested at Ulfric's side, the legendary warhammer Volendrung rested at Máku's. The bulky Orc had his arms crossed and his massive underbite jutted outward in impatience. He watched his weapon glow and dim the eerie green light seen around its foundation just to keep him occupied. The light shown through crack-like designs and surrounded what appeared to be a red sphere that also had its own strange luminescence, which is what Máku assumed was the source of the weapon's cataclysmic destructive power. Preferring to act solo, Máku was the only Speaker known to not run a Sanctuary, nor have a Silencer. Malthael allowed this for the sole reason that wherever Máku went, destruction followed, and the results were just as productive as an entire Sanctuary's.

The Orc shivered and scowled even more than he was before as he turned to his right. He began to rant animatedly which sent saliva on a crash course with various spots of the circular onyxian table. "Vyrthur, turn your fucking cold air off before the last Falmer with any sense of dignity has his limbs smashed into paste!"

At last, we have the final finger of the Black Hands - Vyrthur, the Last Falmer. Vyrthur had no ancient connections to the Dark Brotherhood, but was known to be the oldest Vampire, having lived for centuries upon centuries even before Malthael's conception. The Sanctuary he was in charge of was infact the entirety of the ancient Dwemer ruin of Saarthal, which was now overrun with feral Falmer and other deadly underground denizens who pledged their loyalty to Vyrthur. Most of the important contracts Vyrthur was given were handled himself by simply overrunning the target with the bestial and vampiric Falmer under his control. His pale blue skin was only beaten in paleness by his snow white hair, which was a stark contrast to his crimson eyes.

"Hmph. An Orsimer speaking of dignity. How amusing."

Before Máku could spit out another indignant outcry toward Vyrthur, a dark and purple ovalular portal manifested itself from behind the Listener's throne, and out from it entered the Vampire King followed by the Queen. Jenassa noticed the aggressive body language of Máku, and revealed her trademark smirk while she shook her head with a 'tsk tsk tsk'. "My my, dear Máku, always looking for trouble. Maybe we should get this meeting underway now, my King?"

The regal duo took their respective seats, and the black flames that blazed in the center of the table began to burn more intensely. Malthael cleared his throat, which was his signature way of handing out the subliminal message of 'speak only when spoken to from this point onward'.

"Brothers and Sisters of the Dark," Malthael began, "We have gathered here today to discuss the current events prevalent throughout Nirn, income and contract success rates of all Sanctuaries, and the ongoing… conflict that has the whole continent writhing in chaos. Alexandria, I would like you to start off this meeting with your detailed reports on the Dawnguard's movements, if you will".

A bit nervous at the sudden request from her vampiric master, Alexandria stiffened and cleared her throat as she stood. "Right, Lord Listener. The leader of the Dawnguard, Matthias Maro, has still not been seen outside of the Palace of Light let alone Pharus {3}. Although, his second-in-command, Kalaron, has been leading bands of Vampire hunters on campaigns throughout Skyrim and Morrowind. Hundreds of Vampires, although not affiliated with us directly, were captured or slain with worrying ease. Any Vampires that came within a short distance from Kalaron were reported to have collapsed for no visible reason.

"I also found it noteworthy to report that, even though I found my vantage point to be secure, Kalaron would periodically glance my way until he finally sent troops over to investigate my position. It has been known to us for a while that the more skilled members of the Dawnguard can sense vampiric presences, but I am not a Vampire. Therefore, I urge that different theorems on how the Paladins' sensory techniques work be drawn. My best people have also managed to dispatch the scouts they've sent to Solstheim, but I believe that this will eventually rally suspicion after multiple failed attempts which in turn will give us some unwanted attention. My Silencer also has not gotten back to me, but I have faith that he will complete his mission. That is all I have this time, Lord Listener".

Malthael brought a hand to his chin as he glanced downward, deep in thought as he voiced a hum. "It is unlike our friend Matthias to refrain from the frontline for so long. And yes, please do make sure that your Silencer - Varin, I believe his name was - is successful in this infiltration. We must have someone on the inside if we are to maintain the upper hand of this age-old conflict... Thank you, Alexandria.

Ulfric," Malthael turned to the Nord with an expectant look. "The Thalmor presence in Skyrim has been reduced significantly thanks to your efforts. However, according to last month's reports, three of our own under your care suffered unfortunate fates. While I do not doubt your leadership skills, I would appreciate it if our numbers do not dwindle any less than they already have. I do not wish to have some of the denizens of Umbriel be forced into the Brotherhood's service. This is a dark time of chaos and blood, and the Dark Brotherhood has never seen such an active customer base. As such, the amount of contracts you get this month shall be reduced by fifty, and I charge you with the task of replacing the three members you lost as soon as possible. Is that understood?"

Ulfric grunted in response, internally thinking of the irony in Malthael's words with a flashback of how his entrance to Sovngarde was forever denied. "Yes, King. I shall work on urging strong caution within my ranks… There is but one issue. Stealth is not my strong suit - Máku and I share very similar philosophies on how we should complete our contracts", the Nord sent a nod of acknowledgement and respect to the Orc, who returned the gesture. "Those under my leadership are going to need external help in the sneaking-about department. I request that my future initiates go through lessons here on Umbriel, before they officially begin completing contracts in order to ensure a skillset in my recruits that diminishes their chances of failure".

"Your proposal makes sense, Ulfric. Although I do not let just any outsider, Vampire or not, into Umbriel, your counsel is appreciated and will be taken into consideration. Now, Gray, how much profit have you garnered since the beginning of Morning Star?" With the wave of his hand, a plain black book along with a quill and ink in a little jar faded into existence onto the table. The Vampire King dipped his quill with several quick movements into the ink in order to begin to record Gray's report for dating and documentation purposes.

The rarely beheld voice of Gray responded with efficiency and a hushed tone. "Last month's conjoined budget was placed at three million Septims. Gray thinks it unnecessarily high, but thanks the Listener for his generosity. With a meager three hundred and fifty thousand and twelve septims spent, the total profit gained from the efforts of both my thieves and assassins was recorded yesterday to be eight million, seven hundred and seventy six thousand, eight hundred and fourty-eight Septims. I believe there is only a few months before Elsweyr's economy completely collapses because of our… commutes. My spies in Alanor additionally have reported that no plan of action regarding the Khajiiti province is even being drawn, so it is safe to say that the Thalmor do not care much for Elsweyr". The mysterious Khajiit began to recite, seemingly word for word, the reports of her underlings, their findings, and how many operations succeeded and/or failed, and why.

A flash of anger passed Malthael's features upon Gray's mentioning of the Thalmor as he wrote. Malthael wasn't exactly a being of benevolence or goodwill, but he liked to believe he was at least a Dunmer of honor. Not even giving the slightest acknowledgement let alone economic relief to an allied nation in need sickened even him - and he once force-fed one of his victims their own eyes. Nevertheless, Elsweyr's wealth was essentially getting funneled directly into the Brotherhood's vault regardless. Deciding not to take Gray's incredible abilities for granted, Malthael schooled his features and gave his thanks and praise to the masqueraded Khajiit.

"Moving on," Malthael turned to Vel'Koz. "Vel, what is the status of the Thalmor's campaign in Black Marsh? Also, please at least attempt to keep your temper in check. I do not want to spend a single Septim or spare a single servant repairing this room again, are we clear?"

All in the room looked toward Vel'Koz in either curiosity or even intimidation with the exception of Gray, who robotically remained facing forward. The previous congregation of the entirety of the Black Hands was a few months before, which involved a very loud and violent dispute between Máku and Vel'Koz. The entrance to the chambers was completely destroyed as well as other parts of the Palace as they rampaged at one another, killing many of Malthael's servant-thralls and underlings in the process. Máku decided it was an appropriate time to laugh at Vel'Koz being scolded.

"Aw, come on King, you gotta admit that it had to have been fun to watch". Jenassa giggled in response as she thought of how easy it was for Máku to forget about being angry simply moments before when a good story was brought up.

"He's got a point, dear", Jenassa said, mainly to settle Máku completely down so he wouldn't anger Malthael - which he had a habit of doing.

Nobody noticed Vel'Koz shaking in barely-contained rage except Malthael, who raised a hand that signalled for silence. "That is enough. I have spoken. Vel, your status report, if you will?"

Tiny green saplings started to sprout from the onyxian table as if it were grade A nutritious soil. Vel'Koz was completely trembling as his reptilian maw grinded sharp teeth together in aggravation. With a deep breath, the Shadowscale calmed a bit and swiped the newborn saplings off of the table with one swift motion.

"The Thalmor are destroying everything I have spent over a century to create! These troops in particular wear armor pieces that are much more malleable and sturdy than the grunt variant that easily deflect magic and physical blows - no, these are fully-prepared battalions completely made up of veteran spellswords who've mastered Alteration enough to the point where the Marsh's inhabitants don't even pose a miniscule threat to them - not even the Fleshflies! They burn the Hist, preach their worthless dribble, and move on like a cancer. Gideon, Soulrest, Stormhold, Helstrom, and Blackrose are gone, and it's only a matter of time before Lilmoth is under siege. I have a mind to front my troops myself, but doing so without any credible information would be suicide. Something is amiss here, Malthael. Their magic seems more potent than the usual Thalmor Spellsword's, and they number in the thousands. The only battles that have been won were because of successfully orchestrated ambushes," the Argonian paused for a breath. "Black Marsh is in dire need of your intervention, Lord Listener. I believe we could push the Thalmor back into Cyrodiil with your help."

Malthael's interest in the campaign that currently raged on within Black Marsh had risen considerably, for he had never seen Vel'Koz so shook before; other than when they had their first duel. "You do realize that if I leave Umbriel, the invisibility it retains during the day will crumble. The isle's shadow will show through the ash, and it would incite panic throughout Solstheim."

"I would be willing to dispatch my own troops to surround Solstheim's perimeter to ensure no one gets in or out while-"

"Enough, Vel," Malthael interrupted, to Vel'Koz's displeasure. "I will dispatch my Silencer."

The whole room, even Gray, turned to face the King. No one, not even Jenassa, had ever seen Malthael's Silencer before. None of them even knew his/her name. However, what they did know is, the last time this Silencer in particular was given a mission, High Hrothgar had been completely obliterated. It wasn't exactly as helpful as the King himself being present, but Vel understood why it would make more sense for his Silencer to be the one to help him fight the Thalmor back. "My Silencer will meet with you here this evening upon my summoning. You will coordinate with him until the Thalmor presence is Black Marsh is completely eradicated".

Well, that confirmed the gender of Malthael's Silencer, at least. Even Vel'Koz was a little taken aback at Malthael's straightforwardness. "Thank you, Lord Listener. I'll feel more at ease with your strongest at my side".

Malthael nodded. "Do know that my Silencer is not an asset that I am willing to spare haphazardly. Black Marsh is a vital pillar to the Dark Brotherhood and thus absolutely cannot fall under Thalmor control. That is all. I will also deploy Silgorn along with his squadron to aid you, for he has long requested that I give him leave to study Black Marsh so as to give him ample opportunity of bringing back fresh samples of the wildlife there. I'm sure you see how useful that could be to us".

Vel'Koz returned a nod of approval, yet internally swore. Silgorn got on his nerves. "Though, that's an easy thing to accomplish", he admitted to himself. "Very well. I thank you once more for your generosity, King."

"If I may, King?" Máku inquired. Malthael glanced over at him lazily, wordlessly giving him the go-ahead to speak. "I would like to join your Silencer and that Silgorn guy in fighting off the Thalmor. I've been bored lately, and no recent contracts have given me any sort of challenge. Driving off an army sounds like my cuppa tea!" the orc finished with a hearty laugh.

Vel'Koz placed his face in his hands and tried his best not to speak out of turn, opting to pray to Sithis that Malthael would deny the Orc his request.

"Request granted. Vel, put your differences aside and recognize that Máku could very well be the reason your province doesn't fall under Thalmor regime. In fact, Ulfric," Malthael turned to Ulfric, who chinned up at his name being said. "Wuuthrad could prove to be incredibly useful in this conflict. I will be sending you along with Máku to Black Marsh, and I will put your Sanctuary's contract influx on hold for now. The members apart of it will receive adequate paid leave while you are away. Do you have any issue with this that should be brought to my attention?"

Ulfric merely grunted, but failed to hide a smirk. "No complaints here".

"Excellent," Malthael said as he rested his chin upon connected hands. "Madeleine, I hear High Rock is quite concerned about our presence. Your Sanctuary has done absolutely fantastic work. Over eight-hundred kills within a month… Beautiful, beautiful work my dear. Keep it up".

The old woman beamed at the praise. "Thank you. You are too kind, Lord Listener. My girls and I live for our Mother and Father".

Malthael smiled and nodded his approval at Madeleine's response, then turned to glance at Nazir. "Nazir, how are things on your end? I have not had the chance to go through your report yet".

"Very slow, Lord Listener," Nazir replied with a bit of trepidation as he leaned forward with folded hands on the table. "I do not know if you have noticed, but the influx of contracts that require operation within Hammerfell have drastically decreased over the past few decades. This could be due to the Na-Totambu Republic and the reestablishment of the religion that worships old Yokudan gods, amongst of which cold-blooded murder is vehemently prohibited".

Malthael leaned back into his throne. "A plausible theory. Do you have any ideas as to how you could be able to rectify this dilemma?"

Nazir brought a hand to his chin in thought and furrowed his eyebrows in frustration. "If I may inquire, I'd like to be given permission to infiltrate the Na-Totambu government in order to start slowly shifting the Redguard collective consciousness more toward our position, instead of wasting away in prostration praying to false gods".

Malthael raised an eyebrow. "Oh? It seems that you've been taking the current status of Hammerfell personally. That's unlike you, Nazir".

"Hmph," Nazir responded intelligently. "I may be a Vampire now, Lord Listener, but the Redguards are still my people. I am angered that the masses of Hammerfell are being brainwashed and herded like cattle".

"A noble position indeed. Very well, Nazir, I shall grant your request. Though, I urge that you proceed with extreme caution. The last thing we need at this moment in time is another dead Speaker. Do be very aware of your surroundings - also, if you're captured… Well, you know the incantation".

Nazir winced at that. "You underestimate me, my lord?"

Malthael chuckled. "Overconfidence blurs out the risk. Inferiority magnifies it. You'd do well to remember that, Nazir. It could save your life one day".

Babette giggled from behind Nazir. "Your wisdom is lost on this one, Lord Listener".

"Says the ancient child," Nazir said after he turnes a bit and scoffed facetiously. "Your appearance matches your brain". Máku found this jab hilarious.

"If I may interrupt the comedy session," Jenassa interjected with a small droplet of venom." Babette… Azrael's medicine. Have you gained any progress?"

The Vampire with the facade of a little girl stood up and quickly adopted a serious expression as she paced toward the King and Queen. "Unfortunately, all trials so far have ended in failure. Buuuut, I think it should be noted that Durnehviir claims that with each succession, I'm getting closer! Last time he said that a Dovah would only perish in an hour instead of the previous half an hour!" Babette exclaimed proudly, typically taking a victory wherever she could get one.

Nazir laughed. "Seems like you don't have much of a talent for preserving life. I bet you'd be a horrible cook".

"Silly Nazir," Babette turned to her colleague of centuries and took a regal sip from Nazir's goblet that she took the liberty to snatch. "One cannot rush perfection".

Janessa lightly laughed into the tip of her fingers. "Indeed. Thank you very much Babette, the King and I appreciate your assistance". Nazir crossed his arms and turned away childishly with a 'hmph', which earned him another chuckle out of Máku.

"Of course!" Babette beamed. "Anything for the cute little Prince".

"You really are too kind, Babette," the King said with a legitimate smile. "I also understand that sales at Babette's Bubbly Brewery have been going exceptionally well?"

"You understand right, Mr. King Listener! I've been bathing in Septims!"

"Which will be worth nothing if the Thalmor are not eradicated," Ulfric said with a true warrior's conviction. "I am happy to see that the Brotherhood and His Majesty are finally seeing them as a threat. I've been waiting for this for a very long time. In fact," Ulfric looked Malthael in the eyes. "It is why I did not end my life all those years ago, and pledged my loyalty to you, Dragonborn".

Malthael laughed. "I am glad to finally be on your good side, Ulfric. No more hard feelings about my decision to help the Empire at the time?"

Ulfric scowled. "It was a bloodbath, but my soldiers went to Sovngarde with pride. I knew if I rid my soul of Vampirism, you would have simply found me and bitten me again. So I have bided my time, killed in the name of this… 'Sithis', in order to achieve this end. It has been my drive; and now it is all coming to fruition". The old rebel leader stood from his seat. "If I may, I'd like to take my leave now in order to prepare for the journey to Black Marsh".

"Naturally. Rendezvous with Máku and Silgorn at the Tamrielic Portal in the Royal Gardens by midnight this evening, and I will send the three of you off to Vel's Sanctuary".

Ulfric bowed his head as engraved runes in an onyxian ring on his right middle finger glowed a vibrant violet. This was the Homebound Ring that Malthael had crafted for him and the rest of the Black Hands, which, upon activation, sent the weared back to his/her Sanctuary teleportation. Babette waved Ulfric goodbye childishly as the proud Nordic Vampire seemed to fade from existence.

Malthael cleared his throat. "Well, since Ulfric has taken initiative, I suppose everyone bar Vyrthur is dismissed. May the Dread Father watch over you all".

A collective glow of violet lit up the room slightly and briefly, and all but Vyrthur and Malthael vanished. The two had a bit of a staring contest before any words were said. "You flatter me with this privacy, King".

"Spare me your lies, Vyrthur! I have been aware of your movements to and from Roscrea. What makes you think you could go behind my back, when you've already tried to lure me into a trap and failed, you ungrateful bastard? I let you live! You may be centuries older than me, but you will remember who is King!" Malthael roared, to which the Sacred Congregation Chamber responded to with a tremor.

If Vyrthur was intimidated, he did not show it, to which only fueled the unholy flames of Malthael's anger even further. Malthael was the only exception in the Dark Brotherhood that could kill other members; if he had the permission of the Night Mother. He had a simple way of invoking her vocal manifestation: attempting to kill his target. If the Night Mother deemed Malthael's victims worthy of mercy, she would whisper her orders into the Vampire King's mind that would essentially save the target's life. The Night Mother would also voice her displeasure toward Malthael's rudeness, but he was exempt from her verbal wrath because he was 'the Dread Father's Silver Child', according to the unholy matriarch of the Dark Brotherhood. "Whatever that means" was Malthael's natural internal response.

So, in a burst of speed only a being that has transcended mortality could possess, Malthael suspended Vyrthur by his throat within a second. Vyrthur attempted to ignore the pain, but eventually his face could not hold its facade as the Last Falmer lost his breath - yet, despite the pain, he still retained a smirk of condescension. The Vampire King was about to declare his judgment via crushing Vyrthur's throat, but he heard a familiar raspy whisper from deep within his conscious.

Vyrthur... has not betrayed you. Let... him live, for you will need…

"What shalt I need, my beautiful Mother?"

No response. Malthael emitted a 'tch' of annoyance and dropped Vyrthur to the onyxian floor, who immediately afterward began to cough loudly. "Whatever you're doing. All the gritty little details. Now".

Vyrthur got up, dusted off his robes, and cleared his throat. "In the case of Umbriel's demise, I have been gathering an army of vampiric Frozen Falmer to the far north, and instructed them to build a grand structure fit for a king. My Silencer is watching over the thralls, with the blueprints of the Blue Palace of Solitude. I've also been working on a Conjuration spell that would summon all of the Falmer under my control at once. However, it is a trump card in progress, for the amount of Magicka it takes to summon over six thousand Falmer at once is beyond even you, Listener".

The way Vyrthur said Malthael's Sithis-given title held a bit too much disrespect for Malthael's liking. So, Malthael did what came naturally to him when he was disrespected. He focused Dragonskin magic all around and within his right hand, and gave Vyrthur the fiercest backhanded slap of his long, undead life. The force sent the Last Falmer through the wall adjacent to the Chamber's entrance, which caused two nearby servants on the outside to run in terror.

Malthael held a swift stride toward Vyrthur and set him on his feet by his neck. "I like to think I am a merciful king. Though, this mercy of mine only goes so far when it comes to disrespect. Maybe I should adopt Vel'Koz's philosophy on the matter?"

Vyrthur simply scowled while he rubbed his throat and dusted his robes. "I have gotten too comfortable, and have forgotten that you still do not trust me. That is all, Listener. I will have my Falmer thralls clean this mess up and repair it".

"I'm glad I did not have to waste my breath ordering you to do so," Malthael said with malice. "Also, since I'm now aware of your... extracurricular activities, you will send two-thousand Falmer into Cyrodiil and have them massacre every single fucking Thalmor swine they come across. Is that understood?"

A dark look passed by Vyrthur's features as thoughts of cold-blooded murder crossed his mind. "I will gut you, in your worthless condescending insignificant face if it is the last thing I do, Malthael, for you are an incarnation of Auri-El himself. I must wait even longer now, and exert caution at all times. No matter how much time goes by…" "Your orders are clear, Listener".

"Lord Listener, to you. Do not misplace your misguided obsession with vengeance on Akatosh toward the Dread Father. The Night Mother's faith in your abilities only goes so far, Vyrthur. Remember that".

The Vampire King evanesced and vanished into thin air, which left Vyrthur to fall to his knees in humiliation.

"He sure did a number on you this time, kiddo," one Colette Marence said as she watched the Gargoyle King lay out the Vampire Prince unto a medical altar, made of obsidian and cushioned with fine, thick red cloth. Since she knew she'd have to retire from her teaching career in Restoration at the College of Winterhold eventually or she'd be found at as a Vampire, Collette took to running an infirmary/hospital within the middle of Volkiharus, the structure being very reminiscent of a pyramid made of refined wood from a myriad of species of trees. At the Academy, Collette also held Restoration classes first semester.

All in all, she was an even busier woman than she was when she was mortal. Though Collette has now lived for over two hundred years, her abilities when it came to stress-control actually worsened, and she did not have time to prioritize Azrael whenever Malthael felt like bullying his son around. "I can't wait to see you give your father what's coming to him, someday. You have the potential, you know".

Azrael groaned as Collette's healing magic began working their miraculous panacea-like functions - although, the light of the spell burned his eyes that were still visually sensitive. "Yeah right," he managed to drawl out, slowly regaining his energy. "I'll never reach him. He's some god thing, or whatever".

Collette laughed heartily for a woman of her thin build. "Your father was always powerful, Azrael. But he's no god".

"Hm? He seemed pretty serious when he said it". Azrael began, his status of heightened energy gave wordless praise to Collette's magic. "It was when I was ballsy, and super frustrated with his training regimens like, three years ago, and called him a lousy king. He went off about how Umbriel is his own realm, that the Thalmor are nothing before him, blah blah blah. I don't even care". Azrael rubbed his eyes and sat up on the altar and stretched overdramatically. "Anyway, thanks for fixing me up for the hundredth time, Collette. I'm sure you- hey, are you okay?"

Collette's eyes seemed to attempt to force their way out of their sockets as she took a couple steps back from a confused Azrael. "Y-yeah, yes, I'm fine. I'll see you later, Azrael. You're welcome and all that". After her hurried reply, Collette scurried off to somewhere unknown to the Vampire Prince, who could only scratch the back of his head in befuddlement.

"Do you know what that was all about, Rouen?"

The lord of the stone constructs known as Gargoyles simply tilted its head in confusion, to which Azrael released yet another sigh. He'd been doing that too much lately; it seemed that the prince's sighs would beget more trouble.

His theory gained more credibility when he and the Gargoyle King heard a scream from down the hall that sounded a lot like Colette. Azrael quickly went toward the sound and left Rouen in the dust, much to the distaste of the colossal stone being.

Azrael could tell he was at the top of the hospital, which was where Collette performed her most serious operations, by its inner appearance as a chapel. He'd been here dozens of times when he'd be hurt during combat practice (most of which with his father), and memorized the many rooms that blended together like a maze with bookshelves at every turn and descents of stairs.

"Hello, Azrael".

The Vampire Prince was about to enter an ornate wooden door with your everyday brass doorknob before he was interrupted by none other than his father. "Father...? What're you doing here?"

"I'm afraid you may not like the answer to that, my son," Malthael explained with a sorrowful look on his face.

"What do you mea-" Azrael paused as he stepped back and felt something warm and wet underneath his black dress shoes that were scuffed up with dirt from their previous combat session.

Blood. And lots of it. By the smell of it, Azrael could tell it was a fellow vampire's... Collette's, to be exact.

"What did you do?!" Azrael screeched as he stormed toward his father. "What did she do wrong, Dad?" He fell to his knees before his father. "Why do you hurt everybody?" He cried before his father. "Everything you touch besides your precious garden dies". He punched the floor before his father.

"Unfortunately, you've said too much, Azrael. Collette simply pieced something she was not supposed to together. You see, a lot of Vampires here come here just to simply conspire against me - their messiah. It's a part of their primal genetic defection. You see, I once held nothing dear beside my next victim or meal before my eyes were opened by the previous lord of the Volkihari. Collette was simply one of many that did not get the chance to be like us, Azrael, so they harbor jealousy and hatred and conspire against their king!" Malthael bellowed before he kicked his son through the door he tried to open before.

A sickening squelch was heard to Azrael's horror as he collided with the mangled corpse of Collette Marence. "Damn it," Malthael swore. He didn't mean to kick his son that hard.

Suddenly, frost spread like a ravenous virus from the downed Azrael, snaps and crackles abound as the walls and ceiling became covered in a thick sheet of ice that had pointy icicles jutted out at every angle.

"This magic..." Malthael trailed off to himself. The only time he'd ever seen something similar was when he fought Vyrthur for the first time. That thought alone made the Vampire King's blood boil, but he forced himself to steel his emotions as he stepped back out of the ruined office.

Azrael's tears turned to snow as soon as they left his cheekbones, his face to the ground as he hunched over Collette's body. The two weren't that close, but she was always incredibly nice to the young Vampire. His father was almost always ruthless, and it frustrated him to the bone. A lot of people saw him as some benevolent figure, but the Vampire Prince saw his true face.

"And now, I'll reveal mine".

Azrael shot like a bullet from his previous downed position that left mini shards of icy dust sparkling in the air behind him, his eyes glowing their signature glow once again. Arctic-cold mist orbited both of the Vampire Prince's hands as he neared his father in midair.

Malthael simply sent him into a crash course with a mahogany wall to the left with an Alteration-enhanced backhand. The Vampire King was about to follow up when his arm was grabbed by Jenassa, who appeared as Malthael repelled Azrael's offensive.

"Let me talk to him, dear. I will calm him down without Illusion".

Malthael intelligently grunted. "Fine. It is difficult to control my strength, Jenassa. My Magicka is very dense".

"I am aware of that, love," Jenassa responded in a mediator-fashion. "However, you need to be more careful or your own son will harbor hatred toward you. That would be simply terrible". She began her regal strut toward the once-again downed Azrael.

"Mom…" A bruised and and slightly bloodied Azrael said as he struggled to stand back up amongst the wooden rubble.

"Hello, dear. I know you're upset right now but you need to calm down. Let me take you back to the castle, where we can talk about this".

"No", Azrael forced out of himself as he panted heavily and struggled to his feet. "I'm not listening to either of you anymore".

"Excuse me? I am your mother, Azrael! You will come back with me now!" Jenassa scolded before she grabbed the Vampire Prince's arm. Jenassa tried to use the Sanctuary Ring to teleport to the Throne Room with Azrael, but before she could her entire right arm became encased in a sheet of ice that was once again topped with spiky icicles, some of which impaled Jenassa in her side. The Vampire Queen screeched the scream of a banshee which nearly gave Azrael permanent deafness, and his ears spat out small streams of blood that leaked out onto the wooden floor as he fell. A quick flex of her right arm, and the ice encased around it fell harmlessly to the ground. With a flick of her left wrist, a dark, purple and ovalular portal came into existence adjacent to the unconscious Vampire Prince. Then, in a fit of rage, Jenassa picked Azrael up by the ankle and threw him viciously into the portal.

"Speak for yourself," the Vampire King said in amusement as he was careful to step over the pointy icicles that stuck out of the floor in the current teacher's office the royal duo now stood in. It was quite the mess, what with thick sheets of jagged ice, papers, and broken furniture everywhere. With the snap of his fingers, Malthael conjured a female Fire Atronach and a Xivilai that immediately began to work on clearing up everything that happened.

Jenassa's wounds began to slowly regenerate after she threw Azrael into a portal that was created as a crash course to a random plane of Oblivion. "He used easily A-Class magic on his own mother. I'll fetch for him in a few hours; for now, he can ponder his actions in Oblivion".

Malthael chuckled playfully. "You know, I think all of Umbriel should fear you rather than me sometimes, Jenassa".

"Teaching a child discipline is one of the most important parts of parenting, dear", the Vampire Queen said with a fanged smirk on her face. "He will thank us one day for the lessons we've given him, after being a bit broody for a while".

A disoriented Azrael remembered suddenly feeling the sensation of falling, and tasted what he guessed was grass.

When the Vampire Prince opened his eyes, he was immediately startled onto his backside. Before Azrael knew it, his eyes secreted tears that he felt were not his. Before him was the most magnificent and wide garden that could only be regarded as a forest at first. Breathtaking vistas brimmed with waterfalls and majestic trees of many colors. The cool breeze carried a strong scent of a conglomerate of perfume scents that caused Azrael's vision to blur. Though, the scent was such a pleasure to his senses that he didn't care much about the side effect.

Slowly, Azrael got to his feet after he dusted himself off, still slightly dazed. The familiar sound of flapping wings suddenly reached his highly sensitive ears, which caused the young Vampire Prince to do a quick one-eighty. What his eyes caught were only seen in the Dissecting Daedra informative book series his father had written under the penname of The Second Walker; a Winged Twilight. Though, this one seemed to be far more decorated than the imagery that was portrayed in Malthael's writing.

"Dunmer", the feminine Dremora spoke. In the place of arms were giant bat-like wings that had elongated and sharp talons that extended symmetrically passed the metacarpals. She had a light violet layer of thick, scaly skin and long silver hair. The Dremora's eyes shone a brilliant silver, which complimented her gilded breastplate that also reached around her anaconda-sized tail. "I am Ira, Watcher of Moonshadow. I am to bring you with me to the Palace of Roses at once. Please, do not resist".

"Wait, wha-" Azrael couldn't finish as the harpie-like Dremora in front of him telekinetically lifted his body up into the air. Ira then began to flap her wings in a surprisingly fast pace, then took flight like a bullet. The Vampire Prince was helpless as the invisible force that gripped him completely manhandled his body within a close distance of the incredibly fast Ira.

Azrael's blurred vision became even worse due to the supersonic speed he traveled at. He still had no idea what was going on though, and was partly thankful for the unorthodox reprieve that allowed him to reflect on what happened.

"The last thing I remember is telling Mother that I wasn't going to listen to either of them anymore…" Azrael began in his thoughts. "I guess she's responsible for me being in fucking Oblivion. Seriously, what kind of parents do that? Oh, right! The insane Vampire kind".

What seemed like hours went by before Azrael noticed his vision to slowly become slightly normal once more. Before he knew it, an intelligent 'oof' was forced out of him as he collided onto glistening silver grass. As he stood up, Azrael was shocked back onto his backside once more at the sight in front of him. A colossal regal structure that seemed to be made up entirely of thorny roses stood proudly before him, and silver buildings of various shapes and sizes gave the land around the Palace of Roses a wide berth but still glistened with beauty in the distance.

"We have arrived", Ira stated matter-of-factly. With the wave of one of her talon-adorned hands, the strange nausea and visual disorientation Azrael had experienced completely disappeared. "Please, follow me".

The Vampire Prince's attention descended upon two sparkly silver doors that had some sort of rose petal-like moss growing on it that opened with a large creak. Inside was a wide, silver floor that was surrounded on all sides by rosy walls and a thorny ceiling. Various types of Daedra occupied the halls, carrying scrolls, books, weapons, alchemical ingredients, you name it. It was certainly a lot more busier than Palace Volkihar was, that was for sure.

Azrael trotted behind Ira with his mouth slightly ajar in amazement at his surroundings. Daedra passed by and gave the Dunmer quite the intimidating glares, which unnerved the Vampire Prince but not enough to distract him from the beautiful yet strange architecture around him. Daedra doing grunt work were nowhere near as intimidating as the Vampire King.

It took a lot of effort on the prince's part to not get lost and to keep his attention at least half-assedly on Ira. After a series of ups, lefts, and rights, twin silver doors that were somehow even brighter than the floor greeted his vision. On both sides of the doors were extremely tall roses that budded rich crimson petals, not a wilt in their stature. The beautiful flowers were easily twice Azrael's height.

"Lady Azura awaits you. Be sure to remind yourself who you are speaking to and to show utmost respect and reverence. Farewell, Dunmer". Ira's face adopted the look of a relieved tour guide and flew away at a casual pace. The booming sound of massive throne room doors opening startled Azrael's attention back in front of him. What was revealed was completely unexpected.

What the Vampire Prince expected was a regal throne room fit for a deity. Jewels, servants, immaculate architecture, the whole nine yards. However, what greeted him was the sight of normal, natural grass, like the kind you'd find outside of Oblivion. Various trees and plants of all types of taxonomic families brought a visual crescendo of awe and admiration to the young and sheltered Dunmer's mind.

Strange humanoid beings that could only be described as some variant of very tall Mer people with purple skin and extremely long ears meditated throughout and tended to the colossal garden amidst beautifully placed moonstone lantern posts that held strange stones within them that emitted a dim, teal light. In the middle of it all was an astronomically gigantic moonstone statue of what Azrael guessed to be Azura. A spiral staircase made a spring-like perimeter around the elegant sculpture that went upwards seemingly forever.

Do not worry, child. Allow my will to guide you to me.

A sudden voice that reverberated within Azrael's subconscious startled him for the thousandth time that day. The familiar feeling of being telekinetically manhandled wrapped around him as he shot upward, the spiral staircase becoming a squiggly blur due to the speed.

Long, moonstone arms cradled and supported a masterfully chiseled circular platform that seemed to emulate what a giant birdbath would look like. On the far side of the platform were three sets of wide, bended steps that gave way to an immaculate, stage-like marble floor that complimented the large and definitely regal throne that the Daedric Prince Azura sat upon.

The expensively-tailored black boots Azrael had to wear for his classes felt like they were getting soaked, but were not actually wet as he experimentally lifted up his right foot in wonder.

"Hello, Azrael Saturnus, son of Molag Bal's new favorite pet. Come closer, my dear, for we have much to discuss. Come, do not be afraid. I will not bring harm to you".

Azrael, contrary to Azura's disclaimer of non-violence, was stunned into silence and immobility at first. Here he was, an insignificant fifteen-year-old Dunmer, in the presence of a Daedric Prince because of seemingly sporadic events. He remembered Ira's words, and for that sole reason alone, he took his first step. He did not want to anger the deity who so graciously invited him into her domain, afterall.

"Have you any inkling as to why you are here, Azrael?" Azrael twitched his attention upward at the Daedric Prince. She wore an elegant, opal colored dress and had fair, baby blue skin. Her hair was long and deeply blue, her ears were shot upward and looked like they could impale steel. The strangest thing to the young Vampire Prince were the two artifacts that orbited around Azura's thorny rose tiara. One appeared to depict a silver star with tentacle-like rays that seemed to be layered with some type of Soul Gem. The other appeared to be a replica of a moon during its crescent cycle, and both objects emitted a brilliant white light-like aura.

"N-no, ma'am. Your highness! I, I mean…"

Azura emitted a laugh reminiscent to that of a hearty mortal woman's. "It has been such a long time since I have gazed upon the innocence of a mortal child. Though, you are not exactly mortal, are you?"

One moment, Azura had a warm and loving smile as she sat upon her throne. The next, a sharply nailed hand was on Azrael's shoulder from behind him. "The stink of Molag Bal reeks throughout your being".

Azrael felt once again the weird sensation of being wet and… not wet, as he felt himself startled onto his backside yet another time. It had begun to agitate him, but he silently thanked the Winged Twilight Ira for her reminder about where he was. Like the Daedric deity was never even behind him, she was back on her throne in a casual and relaxed posture.

"Tell me, little Azrael" Azura spoke again, this time in a more elegant and soothing tone. "What do you know about your kind? Vam...pires?" Malice leaked through the last word with utmost distaste and disgust.

"I, uh…" Azrael shifted and folded his hands behind his back, unsure how to act. "We need the blood of non-vampires to survive. We're stronger, faster, have... um, more sensitive senses-"

"No no no, child," Azura interrupted with a wave of her hand. "Where you all came from. Why you exist".

That kept Azrael quiet. He didn't know the answer to that one, if he were to be honest with himself. The thought never really crossed the Vampire Prince's mind.

Azura gave the child a moment to reflect upon her question. "Typical," she started, and raised one of her hands upward, which gave birth to a much tinier version of her throne that rose from the opal-colored floor in front of her. Taking the mysterious display of magic as an invitation, Azrael warily made his way over to the Daedric Prince's conjured seat.

"Thousands and thousands of years before you or your father's time, Molag Bal, one of my brothers, had a feud with one of our opposite kin - the Aedra, or what you mortals refer to them as, what once was the Eight Divines. His name is Arkay, and it is through his essence that it is fated for you mortals to be born and eventually die.

"This cyclical form of existence greatly angered my brother. So, when Nirn was still in its early development, Molag Bal made his way to the land, and abducted one Nedic mortal woman by the name of Lamae Beolfag. Mercilessly he descended upon her mortal body, and left her for dead. When her body was discovered, she was set to be cremated, as was the custom of the Men that inhabited Nirn long ago. Lamae was mourned and burned, and quickly traveled to the back of everyone's minds. However, later that night, she rose again, and murdered the entire settlement she resided in with abilities unnatural to a mortal. She was known as the First Vampire and Daughter of Coldharbour, and possessed immeasurable power that had seeped into her because of my brother's reckless actions.

After her bloodthirsty rage receded, the girl lamented at what she had done. She had beseeched Arkay to cure her of her curse. For reasons unknown to even I, Arkay had abandoned her to her fate. So, in a fit of betrayal and helplessness, Lamae began spreading her curse to followers of Arkay, who naturally eventually infected others. Soon, rumors began to develop throughout Nirn that, if you made a pact with Molag Bal, he'd gift you with power. This is how various bloodlines of Vampires came about. You, however, dear Azrael, are a very special case".

This got Azrael's rapt attention. "S-special case?"

Azura nodded. "Vampires cannot reproduce through the normal, mortal means of sexuality. In fact, your kind cannot reproduce with each other at all, despite still having the fully-functional organs of mortal kind. However, your father has crossed leaps and boundaries, and has made an enemy out of not only the Aedra, but most of the Daedra as well in the process. Are you aware of the accomplishments of your father, Malthael Saturnus?"

The Vampire Prince slowly shook his head from left to right. "I know he's slain dragons and was once known as a hero of Skyrim, but none of that surprised me. He's… incredibly powerful…"

"Tsk tsk tsk," Azura shook her head in what appeared to be disappointment. "Your father has lived for centuries, has one of the most extensive collection of arcane knowledge flowing through his veins, yet cannot correctly be a father to his child. I suppose it is to be expected".

"I-I'm sorry, Lady Azura, but I'm really confused…"

"As is natural when it comes to the sheltered and the ignorant," Azura deadpanned. "Your father is the result of the influence of He who is the Adversary of Everything. Though, that is a story for another time. For now, it is pertinent that I tell you that your father has the gifted blood of Akatosh, who is essentially the most powerful of the Aedra with his dominion over Time itself. He, and a dozen others throughout history have had this gift, which gave them the ability to absorb the essences of Dovah into their own. This is why both you and your father have the ability to harness the Thu'Um. However, your father has gained his prowess with Akatosh's magic through besting numerous Dovah in lethal combat. You, however, slowly gain dominion over the Thu'Um as time passes. Has this never struck you as odd?"

Azrael brought a hand to his chin in wonder. As he got older, he'd feel some sort of sensation that seemed to subliminally remind him that he held power. His muscles surged with strength, and there were days where Azrael felt like he could cast his ice magic forever. "I… I was never told where it came from, or why others couldn't perform the same type of magic. Father said that it ran in the family".

Azura scowled. "Your father has no shame. Typical of my brother's pet…"

The Daedric Prince that held dominion over the incomprehensibly beautiful Oblivion plane known as Moonshadow slowly levitated from her seat and began a pace around her personal space. "The gift of Akatosh has not spread through reproduction since the Septim Dynasty. No, rather Akatosh' pointing finger decided who would be gifted with the soul of a Dovah. You were not meant to bear this gift. In fact," Azura then abruptly turned to Azrael as she completed a lap. "You were never meant to exist at all".

The orange eyes of the Vampire Prince widened in shock. What did this Daedric Prince mean by that?

"You see, you were conceived through a direct link with my brother's volatile magic. Within a pool of virgin blood, your mother and father united. Now, even with my brother's influence, you still would not have been conceived. Though, your father had done the unthinkable with his gift in collaboration with my brother".

Azrael blinked rapidly, and had started to think he'd rather not know what he was about to hear. "Wha...what did my father do?"

Azura adopted a serious facial expression that froze Azrael's nerves. Quickly quelling her anger down, her face reverted to its serene features. "The reason why your father had become drowned in mortal fame centuries ago, was because of his victory over Akatosh's firstborn son; Alduin, the World-Eater, who threatened to undo all of Nirn in a childish tantrum toward his father. He held dominion over all Dovah, and enslaved the mortal races with an iron resolve. Akatosh responded in kind by gifting a chosen mortal with the ability to become the bane of Dovah, including the World-Eater himself. Malthael, and by his plot, you, have this gift rooted throughout your souls. Though, after Malthael had sifted through the forbidden tomes of Apocrypha, the realm of another one of my brothers, he had discovered the ability to harness the souls of Dovah in different ways".

This was a lot to process for the young Vampire Prince, but for once he was thankful for the harsh upbringing he had gone under in order to retain a higher level of intelligence than most would have at his age. Though, there was one thing he couldn't dissect. "Harness the souls of Dovah in different ways? What could that mean?"

Azura scowled once again, which caused Malthael's written description of Azura being 'a bipolar, meddling nuisance' to become a more understandable opinion to Azrael. "With the knowledge my brother Hermaeus Mora kept shelved away, your father had been able to sift through his collection of Dovah souls and intrude into their memories, minds, abilities- everything about these Dovah became an open book to your father. It was then he discovered he could draw forth these souls and reanimate them through his unnaturally potent magic; just like Alduin could. Malthael, being the power hungry fool he is, took an even bigger step forward. He harnessed the soul of Alduin, which he held captive within his being for centuries, and siphoned it through the dark ritual by which you were conceived.

Azura rose an accusatory finger. "What came about that night was a vampiric child that was never meant to exist, never meant to have a soul. What happened that night was an event that was followed by many others that shook the very foundations of all that is and ever will be. For you, Azrael Saturnus, are the Dunmer reincarnation of Alduin himself. What once was the soul of Alduin has become the diluted and sealed soul akin to that of a mortal child's; you".

**Author's Note:**

> That's it for chapter one, everybody! I hope you're all as excited as I am to get the ball rolling on this story. Also, for the sake of accurately depicting official lore and other factors, I'll be doing a playthrough of Skyrim for the first time in two years!
> 
> Constructive criticism is encouraged and welcome!


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